Stuck Like Glue
by DracoTerrae
Summary: Bellamy Blake loves serving his community. He's just used to it being by fighting fires, not helping people get out of stuck elevators. But when the person stuck is the beautiful Clarke Griffin, he finds he doesn't mind it so much. OR three times Bellamy helps get Clarke out of the "cursed" elevator of her apartment building. Bellamy's POV for "Stuck on You." Plus a bonus scene


**Author's Notes: Title from "Stuck Like Glue" by Sugarland. Even though I hadn't named the first story after that song, I figured I'd lean into my recognition of the lyrics for Bellamy's POV.**

 **Bonus scene based on a comment by LexaLee93 (on AO3).**

 **(My story, "Stuck on You," is Clarke's POV, but you don't have to read that in order to understand this one.)  
**

* * *

Bellamy was almost done with his shift at the fire station, but looking out the window he wasn't holding much hope for getting home at a reasonable time. The storm raging outside was probably the worst yet this summer.

He had just gotten back from helping with some downed powerlines when Kane came into the room. "We've got a resident stuck in an elevator. Blake, Sterling, Myles, you're up."

Bellamy sighed and swung a rescue bag over his shoulder. He knew it was too good to be true to think he could have waited out his shift at the station. Kane grab his arm when Bellamy passed on the way to the truck. "Blake, just go home after this one. It's closer to your apartment than the station and the less I have to worry about getting home safe the better; Myles needs to practice on filling out the paperwork anyway."

"Thanks, chief," Bellamy nodded.

Twenty minutes later they were pulling up to an old apartment complex. Turning off the engine and grabbing their gear, the three men walked into the lobby. At least it probably wouldn't take too long and he could go home right after. Grab a beer, throw on Netflix. He was already looking forward to relaxing.

"Oh, Bellamy! I wasn't expecting you to be the one to come," Mr. Miller of all people greeted them. "How are you, son?"

He smiled in surprise at running into his best friend's dad. "I'm good Mr. Miller. Who have we got and where are they at?"

"Miss Griffin is stuck…"

A rough, but feminine voice came through a speaker somewhere behind Mr. Miller's desk. "Somewhere between the fourth and fifth floor," she filled in the gap.

"Did you get that?" Mr. Miller asked, looking to Bellamy and his colleagues.

"Yup," Bellamy nodded. "We'll have you out of there soon, Miss Griffin," he raised his voice, hoping she could hear him through the speakers.

"Thank you!" her voice crackled back. Bellamy usually wasn't one to think someone attractive simply from her voice, but if ever there was a moment, this was it. He shook his head of the wayward thoughts and turned toward the stairs. They exited on the fourth floor and made their way to the elevator. Sterling pulled the doors open and nothing. To the fifth floor it was.

"Does this happen a lot?" Myles asked. He was new to the station, having just finished his training less than a month ago.

"Not really," Sterling replied. "Mostly when there are power outages. And only then when people are unlucky enough to be caught. I think this is maybe my third time in five years."

Bellamy nodded his agreement as they reached the set of doors. "Can you hear us, Miss Griffin?" he asked.

"Yeah," her voice came back to him laced with relief.

"Alright, we're going to open up the elevator," he told her, reaching down to pull on the second set of doors. He was greeted with a set of bright blue eyes staring up at him, a slightly dubious expression set on the face of the beautiful blonde woman. "Hi, I'm Bellamy with the fire department," he greeted. "How are you doing, Miss Griffin?"

A wry smile crept across her face as she shrugged. "Well, you know, your typical day. Decided it would be fun to get stuck in an elevator during a power outage; got to have that fun story to tell at work on Monday."

He couldn't help but laugh, glad she had a good humor about her situation. "Well, let's get you out of there. Do you have anything with you that you want us to take?" he asked, noticing a couple of things on the floor by her feet.

"Just a couple bags," she gestured to them.

"Why don't you go ahead and hand those to Sterling, while I work on getting you out of there." At his name, Sterling knelt down to retrieve the canvas bags Miss Griffin was handing up. Bellamy tried to hide his smile at the way she had to rise to her tiptoes, arms fully extended to try to get them to through the doors.

She settled back on her heels and looked up at him with a thoughtful expression. He quirked an eyebrow in question. She sighed. "I'm warning you now, I'm short and have basically no upper body strength so to speak of."

He chuckled. "It's okay, I've got you," he assured her, reaching an arm down into the elevator. She reached up and grabbed his wrist, he watched as his hand completely enveloped her wrist, proving just how small she was. "One hand, now two," he reached for her other wrist and pulled her up through the opening.

When she stood up next to him she barely came up to his chin. She gave him a once over and he had to stop himself from preening under her gaze. "Damn, someone has insane arm strength," she commented. "Then again, that's part of your job, isn't it?"

Bellamy shook his head with laughter. This woman was brash, saying whatever was on her mind; it was a welcome change from the women he used to hook up with at bars who would play coy and just try to get him to take them home. Though he could definitely see himself hitting on her had they met under different circumstances. "Maybe just a bit," he admitted.

"Thank you," she told him, smiling. "All of you," she added quickly turning to address Sterling and Myles as well.

"You're welcome, ma'am," Sterling told her, raising a teasing eyebrow at Bellamy, having got the way Bellamy appraised her.

"Oh god, Clarke please. No 'ma'am's," she insisted, looking a little horrified.

"You're welcome, Clarke," Myles smiled at her.

She shuffled her feet awkwardly in the pause that followed. "Well, this feels sufficiently awkward. Do I just wave and say, 'See ya later?'" she asked.

Bellamy's thoughts warred between shouting, "No! Don't go yet!" and "Yes! I definitely want to 'see ya later." But before he could form either words into a less awkward sentence, she was ruffling through one of her bags.

"Wait! Here!" she pulled out a box that Bellamy had seen countless of times in the last six months. "It's the least I could do. They're from this _amazing_ bakery over on Mecha Ave. I found the place last month and I probably go in at least once a week; I may have a problem."

Sterling and Myles laughed heartily. "They _are_ great cookies," Sterling explained. "Bellamy's brother-in-law owns the place, so he's brought some to the station, though usually the ones that are a day or two old." He joined the laughter thinking of how his sister loved to pawn off any of their extra baked goods on him and the station. The guys would eat anything, so it was really a win-win situation.

Clarke turned to him in surprise. "Really? Lincoln? He's such a sweetheart," she exclaimed happily. "So that means your sister must be Octavia; she's definitely a spitfire." She looked a little embarrassed at her sudden gushing about his family, but she had definitely described each of them to a T; clearly she was a regular at the bakery.

"That'd be them. I'll let them know how much you like the cookies."

She let out a small laugh. "I think they already do. I raved about the cookies for five minutes to Octavia before she told me she was the owner's wife rather than a customer."

"I think I remember that story," he told her, immediately recalling the tale from a couple dinners ago. Octavia bragging about her husband and how he already has a loyal fanbase.

She groaned. "Glad I could help entertain at family dinner. So, cookie?" she held out the box once more. "Then I'll let you all be on your merry way."

Bellamy happily snatched his favorite peanut butter and chocolate chip cookie, murmuring his thanks. Sterling and Myles each grabbed one, stuffing their mouths before they began to reach for their bags.

"Fuck," he heard Clarke whisper under her breath. He looked up to see what the problem was. He caught her eye when she looked back at their group. "Only police and paramedics come if there's a dead body, right?'

"What?" he managed to get out, caught off guard by the odd question.

"Well, I'm probably going to die on my trek up to my apartment, but I'll try not to if I'd annoy you all by making you come back to the building right after you leave."

"What floor do you live on?"

"Twelfth," she sighed, looking sadly at the door to the stairway.

"Princess in her tower," the words came out before he could regulate them. "If I help you carry your bags is that going to help you not die?" he stumbled the question out, trying to distract from the nickname he just used. There was something about this woman that at the same time sparked his interest and put him at ease. Either way his tongue continued to wag before his brain could catch up.

"Oh! That's not what I was get at, at all!" She quickly amended. "Plus, I'm sure you have much better things to do. Help other damsels in distress out of elevators."

Bellamy shrugged. "This is my last stop of the day. I was going to go home after this, but I can make a quick detour up a couple stairs if it'd help you out." Plus, he wouldn't mind getting to spend another couple minutes talking with her. Maybe he'd gain enough courage to ask for her number by the time they reached her apartment.

No such luck. His tongue got away from him a few more times during the trek, but getting her number or otherwise telling her he'd like to see her again was not one of the things it said. He sighed, walking back down the stairs, debating whether hanging out at Lincoln's bakery waiting for her to come by would be too stalkerish.

* * *

"Blake totally had a thing for the girl," Sterling was telling everyone about their elevator rescue from two days ago. "You think he'd be smooth like he is at the bar, but apparently when he actually likes the girl, he gets flustered. What was her name, Claire?"

"Clarke," Bellamy supplied without thought.

"See?" Sterling ribbed.

"Shove it, Sterling," Bellamy grunted. "It's not like you weren't playing up the firefighter card with that single mom at the elementary school's Day of Service last week." Luckily that got everyone to direct their attention at Sterling rather than him. He breathed a sigh of relief; he was kicking himself enough for not getting her phone number, he didn't need the rest of his co-workers doing the same.

Kane opened his office door. "Got a call," he boomed into the room.

"I'll go. Get away from these assholes," Bellamy volunteered.

"You sure?" Kane asked. "It's another broken elevator." He looked down at his note. "I'm pretty sure it's the same address as a couple days ago, too."

"Oh, he'll definitely go," Murphy interrupted.

"Alright, sounds good. And you can join him. Monroe, you too," Kane nodded and ducked back to his desk.

When they were in the truck, Monroe called from the backseat, "What are the chances that it's the same girl?" she teased.

"Oh, I'm so hoping it is," Murphy replied.

"Wanna place some money on it?" she asked.

"Ten bucks says it's the same girl. Double or nothing if Blake fucks it up again," Murphy replied instantly.

"Fuck off," Bellamy told them both even though he _was_ hoping it would be Clarke.

True to the fact he worked with a bunch of assholes, Murphy and Monroe continued to talk about the chances of it being "Bellamy's girl" the whole ride to the address. He was more than relieved when they finally entered the lobby of the apartment building and the two regained their more or less professional attitudes. "Hey, Mr. Miller," Bellamy greeted.

"Bellamy, didn't think it'd be you back again," Mr. Miller said amicably.

"Oh, he volunteered," Murphy offered with a smirk.

Bellamy shot him a glare before returning to the older man. "So, who got stuck this time?"

Mr. Miller let out a quick laugh. "Clarke has the worst luck. She's in there again. Says she's just above the seventh floor."

Murphy and Monroe started cackling. "I'm looking forward to spending your twenty bucks," Murphy told her as they walked up the stairs.

"Come on, Blake. You've got to make a move, save me some money," Monroe encouraged him.

Bellamy rolled his eyes and refused to engage with them. He made it to the seventh floor and called to Clarke. "Can you hear us? We're going to open up the elevator now."

He heard a muffled response before she called back. "Yeah, I'm here. Sounds good."

He pulled at the doors of the elevator and couldn't help but smile at the look on her face when he caught sight of her. "Stuck again, Princess?" he asked, silently cursing himself for using the nickname he had given her last time.

"Well, I already went up to get out of a stuck elevator. I figured I should try going down on you instead," she shrugged. Her eyes widened with embarrassment and she started turning a bright shade of red. It was only after her reaction did the double meaning of her words catch up with his brain. She stumbled to correct herself. "Wait! No! That's not what I meant."

Murphy was trying his hardest not to completely break down.

"Oh my god, she's worse than he is," Monroe whispered to Murphy.

Clarke dropped her head in her hands. "You know, nevermind. Just close the doors back up. I'm going to just stay in here and pretend this never happened."

Bellamy finally gained control over his laughter, but his smile refused to leave his face. "Come on, Clarke." He motioned for her to scoot forward. "Let's get you out of there."

She complied until her legs were dangling over the ledge. "You remember those bus drills we had to do as kids? Where you would practice jumping off the back of the bus? Well, this feels like that, but a heck of a lot scarier."

He saw her apprehensively eyeing the black pitch of the elevator shaft. "Don't worry about it. I've got you," he comforted her, reaching his hands for her hips as she pushed off the elevator. He helped her down, arms straining. Seconds later she was standing inches away, looking up at him through her eyelashes. "Hi," she sighed at him endearingly.

"Hi," he responded breathlessly, the soft smell of her perfume wafting up to him. He quickly took a step back, trying regain any sense of professionalism he had left. "Um, you all good? All limbs intact, no problems from bring in a small space?" he asked desperately kicking himself as his mouth rambled on. What was it about this girl that left him blabbering like an idiot?

"Yeah, I'm good," she nodded quickly. She opened her mouth as if about to say something else, but was interrupted by the loud ringing of her phone. She glanced down at it and rolled her eyes. "Sorry, if I don't answer, she's going to keep calling until I do." She hit answer on her phone, bringing it up to her ear, "Hi Rae, can you hold on for one second?"

She dropped it back to her side, a muffled voice still talking to her. "Um, thanks for getting me out of there…again," she smiled at him, Murphy, and Monroe. "I should probably avoid the elevator in the future, since its clearly cursed. But I live on the twelfth floor, so who am I kidding?" she laughed light-heartedly at herself.

"No problem, ma'am," Monroe told her.

"Clarke, please," she insisted.

"So, it's not just Blake who gets to call you that?" Monroe teased, throwing an elbow at his ribs.

"Nope," Clarke shook her head. "But knowing my luck, the whole fire department will know to call me Clarke. Though by that point you'd probably just know me as the girl who keeps getting stuck in that elevator," she joked.

"Not quite the name we know you as," Murphy smarmed.

Bellamy shot him a harsh glare, "Shove it, Murphy," he barked.

Clarke creased her forehead curiously at him. Her phone started singing again. "Ugh," she groaned. "She hung up and called back. Um, thanks, again. Good to see you, Bellamy. And, uh nice to meet you Murphy and…"

"Monroe."

"Monroe. Yeah, thanks again. I, uh, would say hope to see you again, but I really don't want to get stuck in that elevator a third time. So, um, yeah, thanks?" She waved a hand at them and walked away, shaking her head, before she raised her phone to her ear to continue her conversation with whomever had called her.

"Oh my god, she _is_ worse than Blake," Monroe burst into hysteric giggles. "Can I at least knock it down to fifteen for that?" she asked Murphy, reaching for her wallet in her bag.

"Nope, twenty bucks. Cough it up," he demanded, holding out his hands.

"I was not that bad," Bellamy protested as they returned to the truck.

Murphy laughed, "'Um, you all good? All limbs intact?' Seriously, Blake?" he mocked.

Bellamy groaned. "Can we not talk about this when we get back to the station?"

"No deal," Monroe told him. " _Everyone_ is going to want to hear how it went over with your little crush."

"Oh, and we can't forget how she wanted 'to go down on him,'" Murphy added.

"Hey," Bellamy growled. "Shit on me all you want, but leave Clarke out of it."

"Protective of her already," Monroe crooned.

"I'm just going to leave you two here," Bellamy threatened, pushing open the door to the stairs.

They laughed at him all the way back to the station.

* * *

"You're pretty pathetic," Miller told him, leaning back in the rolling chair. "Two weeks ago you were worried about being stalkerish hanging out at Lincoln's bakery. Now you're literally sitting in the lobby of her building, hoping she'll pass through."

"I haven't seen you in forever," Bellamy protested. "That's what this is about."

"We played pool at the bar a week ago," he deadpanned.

Bellamy tried to come up with a reply, but failed. He was saved by a crackling voice coming from a small speaker. "Uh, Mr. Miller?" Wait, he knew that voice. That sounded like Clarke. Bellamy tried to keep the patter of excitement in his chest down to a minimum. His crazy plan to "accidentally" run into her while hanging out with his friend just might work out.

Miller sat up at the sound and started looking around for how to answer. He pressed down a button, "Is this right? Hello?" he asked, leaning toward the speaker.

"Hi?" what was definitely Clarke's voice came back.

"Uh, it's actually just Miller tonight; it's my parents' anniversary, so I'm filling in for my dad's late shift."

"Oh, hey Miller. It's Clarke," her voice came back excited and friendly. "How have you been? How's Monty?"

"You fucking _know_ her?" Bellamy hissed. "She knows Monty?"

"Clarke actually went to college with Monty," Miller shrugged like it was no big deal, giving him a sly smirk.

"I'm going to fucking murder you," Bellamy returned.

"I'm good. We're both good. How are you?" Miller asked Clarke, ignoring Bellamy as he freaked out and plotted his friend's slow death.

"Um, well…I think I'm stuck in the elevator…again," Clarke replied, sounding somewhere between embarrassed and annoyed.

"I thought that already happened to you twice," Miller said through his laughter, clearly a fan of torturing more than just Bellamy. Bellamy tried to see the upside, assuming he actually talked to Clarke and got her number and if all things went smoothly, she clearly already got along with his friends. Well, he was going to murder Miller, but they could still hang out with Monty.

"I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to go down to the firehouse with baked goods and a blanket thank you from the resident damsel in elevator distress," she sighed, bringing him out of his musings.

"I'm sure they would all appreciate that," Miller told her. "Some more than others," he added with a teasing glint in his eye as he looked at Bellamy.

"Slow and painful death," Bellamy whispered back to him.

"Wait, there's a little light here that says, 'emergency stop.' Did you accidentally pull the emergency stop?" Miller pointed at the light and gave Bellamy a questioning look.

Clarke huffed indignantly in return. "No. I was literally just standing I the middle of the elevator. I was nowhere near it."

"Maybe just try pushing it and see if the elevator starts up again."

They waited a couple seconds and heard her mumble something. "What was that, Clarke?" Miller asked.

"Nothing," she returned quickly. "It's working. I don't know what happened. See you in a minute." And then the tone crackled off.

"You're dead to me," Bellamy told Miller with a shrug. "I hope Monty can find someone else, because I'm going to murder you."

"We were already planning on inviting you both over to our barbeque next weekend, but I just couldn't pass up this opportunity to see your pathetic pining first hand. Plus, if you want to talk to her again, I have it on good authority that she's coming down the elevator right now."

"Fuck, what do I do?"

"I don't know. But you've got about thirty seconds to figure it out."

Bellamy walked around to the front of the elevators and leaned against the wall in anticipation. The doors dinged open and Clarke walked out, swearing under her breath. "Trying to see me again?" he teased, glad something at least somewhat smooth came out of his mouth.

Her head jerked up and she caught his eye. Her face turned a bright shade of pink. "I did _not_ pull that emergency stop. I swear!"

"You could have just asked for my number last time I was here," he said, finding his rhythm. At least from the third party observers who wouldn't stop teasing him at the station he was relatively sure, she liked him, too. He fell into step beside her.

"What are you doing here anyway?" she asked him suddenly, cocking her head.

He immediately lost what confidence he did have. Stalking the girl was definitely not smooth. "I, uh…"

"He heard I was filling in for my dad and said he wanted to hang out with me, pretending it was because we hadn't seen each other in a week, but really hoping you'd come through the lobby at some point," Miller said helpfully from behind the security desk.

Bellamy shot him a glare, but nodded sheepishly when Clarke looked questioningly from one to the other. She took a step closer to stand in front of him and gave a shy smile. "You could have asked for my number too, you know?"

He stepped closer to her. She bit her lip shyly. But before they could have a moment, her phone chirped. She looked down at it quickly. "She fucking did it," she muttered. "I'm going to murder her."

"You're murdering who now?" he asked, confused.

Clarke looked up from her phone to meet his eye. "My friend Raven. She uh, knew I was crushing on the cute fireman who rescued me from the elevator," the blush that had begun to disappear returned and deepened. "She joked that she was going to sabotage it, so I'd run into you again."

"She can do that?" he asked, concerned that she had a friend who not only would, but could sabotage an elevator, just to be a supposed wingwoman.

"She's the smartest person I know and a mechanic so she definitely could. And did."

"But how did she know I would be here? Wouldn't Mr. Miller have just figured out it was the emergency stop?" he pointed out the flaw in her theory.

"True, true," she admitted contemplatively.

Her phone chirped again. He peered down at it and spotted a picture of Octavia with a dark-haired Laitna girl. "Is that my sister?" he asked taken aback.

"With Raven," she confirmed, looking up to catch his gaze. It was only then that he realized how close they actually were.

Miller broke this potential second moment, laughing uproariously. "I don't know Raven, but I love her already. You and her should meet up with us at Grounders later tonight."

Clarke's mouth fell open slightly, he could see her working through something. "Around 9:00?" she asked.

Bellamy looked at her in surprise. "Yeah, actually. We were going to go after Miller got off."

Her phone chirped a third time. She typed out a response and immediately got one back before she smiled up at him. "So, apparently we've been set up for dinner." He could read the slight edge of nervous hope in her voice.

He smiled happily at her in return. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm," she nodded.

Thirty minutes later he was on the best dinner date he had been on in a long time, possibly ever.

* * *

 ** _*Three years later*_**

Bellamy bounced nervously on his feet, a small, but significant, box burning a hole in his pocket.

"What is up with you?" Clarke asked, giving him a quizzical look. Of course she knew something was up. She wouldn't be the girl he was about to propose to if she couldn't sense something had him on edge. "Was it something at work? Is it Octavia?"

"No, no. Neither or those," he tried to lower his heartrate.

"At least tell me if this is worried nervous or excited nervous; I can't tell right now." She stepped across the small space of the elevator to cup his face in his hands, trying to read the answer in his eyes.

"The latter," he flashed her a smile which widened slightly as the elevator jerked to a halt.

"What the actual fuck?" She turned away from him to look at the panel, having missed his sneaking smile. "Three years this elevator has been kind to me. Three years!" She whipped back to look at him, exasperation on her face.

Bellamy grinned blindingly at her from one knee, pulling the box out of his pocket. Her face immediately melted into tearful joy and a hand rose to cover her mouth. "The first time I met you, you were standing right in this very elevator and I couldn't believe the beauty of the woman who was staring up at me with these bright blue eyes. You had a quick wit and a dry humor and I immediately fell for you.

"The second time I saw you, you were still in this very elevator. You even said you'd go down on me," he teased. She shot him a glare despite the happy tears that were streaming down her face. He laughed a little. "But you gave me this worried look as you joked about school busses and I said, 'Don't worry. I've got you.' And Clarke Griffin, if you'll let me, I'd like to remind you of that, every day, for the rest of our lives. Because I'll always be ready to lay aside your worries and support you in all that you do, and I can't imagine having any other person at my side. Will you marry me?"

She nodded her head vigorously. "Yes, yes! A thousand million times yes!"

Bellamy stood and pulled her in for a long kiss and Clarke melted into him. When they finally pulled apart, she snuggled into his arms and helped him put the ring on. Not letting go, he reached around her to hit the emergency stop button and the elevator whirred back to life.

The doors opened to the lobby and all their friends greeted them with a rowdy shout of "Congratulations," popping some champagne.

"I can't believe you fucking proposed to me in a stopped elevator," she looked up, eyeing him dangerously, as they stepped out into the throng of their friends.

"That stuck elevator has been pretty significant in our relationship," Bellamy defended. "Don't tell me you don't like the sentimentality of it."

"Okay yeah," she admitted. "But now people are going to ask how you did it and I'm going to have to explain. It was bad enough when it was just how we met and got together. Now the proposal too?"

"Why stop there?" Raven asked, sidling up next to them.

"Yeah," Octavia agreed. "Get married in an elevator, with the doors open to the audience of course. Sign the mortgage of your first house in an elevator. All your significant moments in elevators," she laughed.

"I draw the line at having a kid in an elevator," Clarke retorted.

"But you can't tell me, you two have had sex in an elevator before," Raven waggled her eyebrows.

"I plead the fifth," Bellamy laughed, sharing a look with his now fiancé.

"Ew, gross," Octavia gagged. "Little sister here."

Clarke laughed. "We'll make sure to never tell you how your nieces and/or nephews are conceived," she assured her.

"That's all I ask. But definitely a yes to giving me nieces and nephews to spoil."

"Talking kids already?" Bellamy whispered to Clarke. He could already picture it too easily.

She gave him a blinding smile. "Yeah, if we have a boy we'll name him Otis."

"I am not naming our kid after the dog in the Garfield comics."

"First off, that's _Odie_. Second, Otis is the number one manufacturer of elevators. I'm trying to keep on theme here."

Bellamy burst out laughing. "Why do you know that?"

"When you're sitting in an elevator, waiting to be rescued by a handsome fireman, there's only so much reading material available."

"I love you," he laughed gently, planting a kiss on her temple.

"I love you, too," she smiled.

* * *

 **More Notes: As always, favorites and reviews are without fail appreciated. Seriously, they make my day.  
Also, just recently got a Tumblr, DracoTerrae9099, so feel free to come chat at me about Bellarke or my stories or basically anything.  
And, if anyone has any prompts they'd like me to attempt, feel free to send them to me with a review, private message, or on Tumblr.**


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